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Saturday, November 16, 2013

Cleaning My Claws

This blog posting is dedicated to and inspired by Leftist Pinheads, under whatever rock they choose to squat. Beware, strong language lies ahead. If you can't stand the fucking heat, get out of my kitchen. Now.

With that disclaimer out of the way, it's time for me to clean my claws. You will have to understand that my youngest daughter, AKA Bridezilla is getting married three weeks from today and is fighting me on everything. I can't exactly snap her neck, as it's apparently illegal in the State of Texas to kill your child for being a brat. I don't get it, but when in Rome...

It's been a couple of weeks of really bad days. I've got a wedding coming up here and a boat load of frustration that used to be my home. Believe it or not, I do hesitate to rip someone to shreds when I know their options are pretty much limited to what I can do for them. When they take advantage or for granted, then I am forced to be a complete and utter bitch. But you know the one thing that never changes? Ever? The surprise on their faces when I finally snap. Like yes, I they know I'm the one keeping them alive and because of that fact, I'm supposed to let them do whatever they please.

It doesn't work that way, Nancy. Not in the Meritocracy that is my house.

If I am providing you with free food and shelter, as well as the use of my vehicle, I honestly don't believe that asking you to do the dishes after I've cooked the food I've paid for is too much. I also don't expect you to tell me how to live my life, how I should be doing ANYTHING since your life is so obviously in the toilet that you come to ME for assistance, knowing I don't suffer fools gladly.

Add on to that the fact that I've been working at a job I despise too long, yet I am not yet able to leave it. The ones responsible for that will suffer humiliations galore for keeping me in it that long. Of that, they already know, but feel that I won't do anything based on the history that I never have. Beware the woman who has come to the end of her rope and has nothing left to lose. People snap every day. Why should I be any different? Just because I never have? Well, Skippy, maybe I'm due.

Much of my spleen has been earned this past week because of the to-doings with Obamacare and the fiasco, well, unmitigated disaster that it is. And still the fucking retards think they can fix it. Every single swinging dick on the Left claims to have read Atlas Shrugged and yet STILL DON'T FUCKING HAVE A CLUE. And what's worse? The idiot fuckatrds with R's behind their names up on the Hill ARE HELPING THE STUPID ASSHATS!

The ONLY item on the Republican agenda should be repeal and concentrating on getting the House back and strengthening the Senate next November, but the fuckwits in the Republican party, scared old men like Karl Rove and that idiot whose name no one can really pronounce INSIST on pillorying Mike Lee and Ted Cruz because the men have the stones to point out when something is wrong, but it's just because they don't have the time in the seat to speak up yet. WHAT THE FUCK???? Where's the fucking timer so I can see when their fucking constituents get a fucking voice. They are doing what the people who voted for them told them to do in Washington. When the fuck are you god-forsaken wastes of oxygen going to get it's OUR will you're supposed to be up there doing? I think it's time you fucking found out. Imma bout to start voting from the fucking rooftops. Feel me?

Sorry, it was time for a street cred check.

A lot of my frustration today comes from the fact that I've reached the point where I've realized I've still got tons of fight left in me and not one target to point it at. I've got so many targets, so many reasons to just slap the hell out of any one person and everything is a fucking priority. Then I'm forced into a building with the most fucking retarded ghetto trash you could ever make up in a really bad Wayans Brothers movie. Everyday I come home and have to scrape it off me. I try to ameliorate the effects of being surrounded by that much stupid and willful ignorance and wear ear buds all the time, however, come the times where I am forced to take them off and I am assaulted with it. Even as prepared as I am for it, it always comes as a shock the depths of idiocy people will accept so as to not have to deal with reality while they wait for Superman to come save them from themselves.

Everyday I wake up and hope that my prayers for my own pet fire breathing dragon are fulfilled. Yes, I need some serious area of effect shit to throw down. I guess it's a damned good thing I don't believe I have the right to take another person's life. This would be like the rant of one of those morons who go to public places and shoot randoms. I don't want to kill anyone. However, I do want them to hurt and hurt bad. Not necessarily physically, either. My seat is the psyche. That is where real pain, real awareness of reality lay. That is where I live. I've seen the results of denying reality and it's not pretty. Neither should be facing up to your abject failure.

This is the one thought that gets me through without reaching across the counter at Volde*Mart and choking the chit out of the moron checking me out and throwing my glass jar into a plastic bag with all the finesse of a drunken hippo. I already know what reality it is. I don't suffer seeing it, I never have and I've never looked away, no matter how harsh it's ever gotten and no matter how badly I wanted to. But somehow, seeing the look on their faces as they face up to reality for the first fucking time, ever, is my reward. Knowing that for most of them, their minds will break short seconds after that look, well, that's just icing on the cake. Then I get to go clean up their mess. But I'm not Superman or Wonder Woman or any super hero coming to save anyone. I saved myself and that's all the juice I ever got for any type of savior gig. I don't suffer. Ever. I refuse to. Life is to lived and I am living it on my terms, according to the rules and morals I know to be right and true. There are absolutes and I absolutely love my life. So I am living, not merely existing.

And in the words of Shinedown, You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself? That is my affirmation of life. I am alive.

1 comment:

You hit a sore point of mine too. There are so many things that make me want to slap people, that I cannot form a coherant blog that doesn't just turn into a mass rant-fest. I have been swallowing it and trying the ignore-it-and-hope-it-goes-away technique. It is not working.

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About Me

I was given Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged when I was 13 years old and in the hospital for an extended period. I didn't read it until I was 16 and very bored at the beach. I was quickly embroiled in the story and nearly in tears with the realization that there were other people who thought as I did. People who held the same values as I did existed, somewhere and had written a book about it.
I don't think of myself as Dagny Taggart, I'm more of a Francisco d'Anconia, hell bent on pointing out the hypocrisy of the liberal looters. It gives me a satisfaction I cannot describe.

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